I was asleep before we taxied to the runway and didn't rouse from my slumber until many hours later when the pilot started our descent into Boston Logan airport. While I realize that this may not sound like a particularly interesting piece of information, just know that sleeping on airplanes is an extraordinarily unusual activity for me. While I always carry the necessary accoutrements to improve airplane comfort, like neck-pillows and eye masks, I've never really been able to harness that preparedness to restful sleep.
I've always been envious of people who were able to sleep on airplanes (or for that matter, through any other of life's small unpleasantries. I figured there must be some trick that I wasn't privy to; some mystery I had to unravel, but based on my success in sleeping on this particular cross-country flight, it might just be a requirement of extreme exhaustion.
Before I opened my eyes, I could feel the slight rocking of turbulence and the warmth of my husband's tender hand laying on mine. I remained still like that for several minutes, thinking about what I'd done the night before.
Last night I slept with another man. A man I had just met. Luckily, that fact had my husband over-the-moon with delight.
Let me start by saying that this wasn't a planned event. It wasn't an intricate ruse to allow myself an extramarital affair. It was a spontaneous opportunity that was presented to my husband and I. We just just took a leap; a very, very wild leap.
It was perhaps irresponsible to agree to something like this 'in the moment.' The implications are large and the outcome is certainly unpredictable. The only defense I can provide is that I somehow knew it was going to be ok. I can't explain why but I just knew. Of course, I didn't rely on my 'feelings' and we both triple checked throughout the evening to ensure that things were fine between us.
For the record, I haven't slept with anyone else since taking vows. In fact, it isn't anything that I ever really thought about — at least in any realistic way. While I'm certainly guilty of the occasional masterbatory thought of some handsome celebrity, the idea of actually being with someone else felt so foreign that it never took a moment of mindshare. More than that, if I was told the exact scenario of how things played out and asked if I was interested, I would have said 'absolutely not.' Living through it however, the outcome seemed somewhat inevitable. '
Throughout the evening in question, I was subconsciously flirting with a man whom I'd just met. When I finally became aware of what I was doing (from a little teasing from my husband) the subconscious became very conscious. It wasn't long after that when I realized that I wanted to spend the night with him.
A few short hours later, I said goodnight to my husband and went upstairs with this near stranger. When I returned to my husband, in the wee hours of the morning, I told him what transpired since we parted. I told him that another man had kissed me, touched me, licked me. I told him that another man brought me to climax. I told him that I sucked his cock, he fucked me, and came inside me. I told him that we briefly slept in each other's arms before starting again. A wife recounting such things to her husband is not for the faint of heart and, to be honest, describing what happened was somehow more nerve-wracking than the experience itself (and almost as exciting).
While I did tell my husband everything that 'happened' during my time upstairs, there were also a number of small details that I left out. To be clear, the inventory of all acts was accounted for; I made sure of that. But there were thoughts, feelings, and other small tidbits which were too difficult or strange to share — at least at the time.
For example, directly after the first time that Robert and I made love that evening, I distinctly remember my thoughts as he pulled himself from me. There was a thin string of semen that briefly stretched between the tip of his deflating penis to my gaping pussy. As he climbed over to lay beside me, the elasticity reached it's threshold and the sticky trail of cum fell across my leg and into my trimmed pubic hair. At that moment, I thought about the millions of sperm entering my uterus in search of an egg. Thinking of it now, there are many which are still inside of me during this flight. I'm on birth control so the risk of pregnancy is low, but I still conjured a very visceral thought that I haven't been able to shake. Specifics aside, informing my husband that I'd developed an inexplicable and intense cum fetish since I last saw him isn't exactly normal breakfast conversation.
When telling my husband about the second time we had sex, I was especially less forthcoming. I hastily answered his question about positions but didn't really talk about the interactions between Robert and I. At that point, we were far more aquatinted and comfortable with each other and the interactions and feelings felt harder to repeat to my husband.
I was awaken by soft kisses and a light fondling of my breasts. There was a chill in the room and goosebumps formed whenever his lips left my skin.
Still groggy, I asked him "Yeesh! Are you ready to go... again? Go back to bed. I need my beauty sleep." I said with an exaggerated silly frustration.
"Not a chance! I've been trying to wake you for the better part of an hour."
I rolled on my side to face him, crossed my arms over my chest. He reached his arm around my back and started to softly caress me.
"You're playing with your ring again." He said.
Once again, I hadn't noticed that I was twirling my wedding ring around my finger.
"What are you thinking about?" He continued.
"I don't know. My husband and this... and everything I suppose."
"It's obviously none of my business and feel free to not answer but, do you love him?"
"More than anything."
He nodded then asked "So, do you feel guilty?
"No."
I closed my eyes again just laid there for a while. When I opened my eyes again, I turned the question on him "Do you feel guilty?"
"Not the least."
"Oh, so I guess you get off on sleeping with other men's wives?" I said with a little wry smile.
"Taking what doesn't belong to me does add quite the little thrill, doesn't it?"
I didn't answer but instead just smiled with my head half buried into the pillow.
I closed my eyes again and enjoyed the quiet of the morning and his light carcass on my back for a few more minutes. I could feel a slight tingling down there and knew with that distraction that I wasn't getting back to sleep.
I wanted another go as much as Robert did, if not more.
Eyes still closed, I slowly maneuvered my hand down to his semi flaccid member and started to massage. Even after the action earlier, the novelty of how different he was from my husband didn't wear off one bit. The size, the shape — everything.
Once he reached an acceptable level of rigidity, I clumsily rolled onto him and after a few miscues, he slid into me with no resistance.
We kissed for a while, as I intermittently lifted and lowered my hips. My body started to warm the more I moved and I started to shed the morning sluggishness. Soon I was rolling my hips and grinding my clitorus into his pubic bone. My breasts hovered above his face and he took turns sucking one nipple while cupping the other breast. I loved being on display for him like that. Before long, I could feel an orgasm start to swell within me. I started to sit more upright as I rode him and then started to lean very far back. He braced me by placing his hands around my waist as I started to feel it wash over me.
"Oh fuck. You're making me come again." I said in a raspy whisper while rocking my hips violently.
As I came down from that high, I started to slow my pace until I reached an eventual stop. At this point, I was in a brief state of shock. I have never achieved orgasm for penetrative sex. I've been excruciatingly close countless times, but never cross that threshold.
I wanted more.
After I caught my breath, I lifted my hips from his lap and crawled on my hands and knees to the other side of the bed.
With my ass in the air, I placed my face and hands flat against the mattress. If that wasn't invitation enough, I gave my little tush a shake.
He went around the bed and I could see his erection bobbing with each step until he left my field of vision.
A moment later, I could feel the mattress rock as he knelt behind me. I felt one large hand rest on my left hip and then I could feel pressure against my swollen vulva, spreading the folds before entering me completely.
